The door handle clacked with a key being inserted into it—none of those fancy keyless entries at this place, apparently.
“Oh! The chain.” Abbi sprang off the bed and pinched the chain between her fingers. “Is that you, Lula?”
“You can look through the peephole to make sure.”
“I know your voice. I heard you coming. And I heard Lorde too.”
“Still,” Lu said, “it’s always good to check.”
Abbi did as Lu suggested and looked through the peephole. “It’s you. And it’s Lorde. And you have food.” She unlatched the chain.
“He wouldn’t take any of the pills but I did good watching him,” she said as Lu walked in with several bags, one that might have groceries, but another that was definitely Chinese food.
“You did.” Lu’s attention was on me, gauging how I was feeling.
“Thanks a lot,” I said, doing my best to look annoyed.
Lu blinked, and her eyebrows rose. “For?”
“Making me have to decide between a shower and whatever it is that smells like heaven in that bag.”
“Orange chicken.”
“Gods damn, woman.”
That pulled a smirk out of her. “Shower, and I might save you some.” She carried the bags over to the dresser and set them there.
Abbi was already digging through one before it was out of Lu’s arms.
Lorde trotted over to the bed and stuck her big fuzzy head on the mattress, soft brown gaze on me, curled tail wagging. I stroked behind her silky ears.
“Good girl, looking after Lu for me.”
Her tail wagged faster.
I stroked her head, then pushed the blankets away and gave my feet a try. Lorde stepped backward as I moved forward, as if she was making sure I wasn’t going to fall.
“A taste?” I asked Lu, who handed Abbi one of the white cartons and paper-wrapped chopsticks.
Lu plucked up a new set of chopsticks, dug around in the carton, and offered a glossy orange chunk of chicken.
The room was small, most of it taken up with the beds. It took all of two steps to put me within her reach. I opened my mouth and bit the chicken off the chopsticks.
A burst of savory, sweet, salty, hit me like a meteor strike. Eating, tasting food, was still a treat that could knock me off my feet.
“Shower can wait.” I crowded up in her space and made a move on the carton of chicken.
She batted at my hands. “No. You stink.”
“We all stink.” I feinted toward the rice, but she turned her shoulder and back on me, not falling for my ruse.
“Abbi showered while you were sleeping. Step it up, Brogan. Faster you bathe, faster you get food.”
“You aren’t in charge of the rules,” I said.
“I am in charge of this food.” She shifted her grip on the chopsticks, holding them like a weapon. “Soap. Water. We’ll all be the better for it.”
I changed my plan of attack and reached out, my hand on her hip. “Hey, baby. That’s some good-looking chicken you got there. How about we curl up in bed, put on a movie, and you let me put my chopsticks to some good use?”
